Abbiamo Stavamo
by Lawliet Veneziano
Summary: There is no way to explain what happens when wars get too far. But when they do, when all hope is lost, sometimes nations must keep going, even when their hearts are broken...
1. Burial

He wasn't sure where he was anymore. The sky no longer held color anywhere, the land no longer held warmth anywhere, all there was was a sense of emptiness. It was a painful emptiness, a cruel emptiness, the type only one like he could feel; only someone who lived with the lives of millions, their hearts all beating with him, could feel this deep unending emptiness.

It was the feeling of all life being gone.

The feeling was already there when he woke up, finding his body curled up on hard, unloving earth; the emptiness caused his heart to stop for a moment before he realized, yes, he was alive. Slowly, carefully he opened his eyes, daring to look, daring to see; all he saw was buildings, broken, crumbling, and dead trees. Rubble covered dried blood, tatters of clothes shifted in an uneasy wind. He wasn't sure of where he was and he tried to move but felt something heavy, so very heavy; he winced, his body hurting as he tried to get free. In his arms and legs were shrapnel, blood gracing the ripped and faded cloth. His right arm especially was in horrible condition, numb to his senses and the first thought was that it was broken or worse; the fact he could still move it made him feel better.

What he saw when he got free and looked at what had been holding him down, that caused him to feel much worse; he felt his heart stop, his breath and words catch in his throat. Tears threatened his eyes but they couldn't come, leaving him to stare at the body of a man with blonde hair that once was neat, a uniform that was once perfect. The man's eyes were closed, his once serious face graced with a tiny smile that could only come from protecting something precious, something priceless. Like a lover.

He found his words finally but with it came a flood of tears; his voice was pained, hurt, begging, "Doi….Do…..Doitsu…..Doitsu….."

Over and over he repeated those words, the tears staining his sight, his hands fumbling to touch the man's face, his hair, his cheeks and shoulder, "Doitsu, Doitsu, wake…wake up….wake up…..please…."

There was no reply though, no words to scold him, no hands to grab his; there was just him and the man's form. And he continued to call to him, continued to cry, asking him to wake up, begging him to get up, urging him to say something and make it that what he saw wasn't real. But he knew it was; no matter what North Italy wished, no matter how much he begged, he was fully aware that the man, his beloved Germany, was never going to get up. Still he wanted to pretend just a bit it wasn't true and that he would be okay soon.

North Italy wasn't sure when he stopped crying out for Germany; all time seemed to fold together now, like one endless string of gray sky. The effects of the war had caused not only radiation that killed the earth but dyed the sky with clouds that never disappeared. There was no moon or sun anymore, just dim nothingness. So effectively he had no idea what time it was when his voice finally gave in and he was forced to give up on pretending; he was unaware of how long it took him to get to his feet, his legs wobbling as he picked up the heavier Germany and dragged him away from the ruined city, pulling him away from the remnants of civilization and towards the outside. He wouldn't know when he found that little hole in the ground surrounded by crosses stuck in the ground, when he finally dropped Germany along and buried his old friend, taking only his heavy heart and the Iron Cross that Germany had always worn; he stopped halfway through burying him, staring at the simply piece of iron, feeling it's cold weight in his hand. His mind was blank for a moment and he knew to feel sad over this but he no longer had any tears left to cry. He closed his eyes and slipped it carefully around his neck before continuing with burying Germany, watching as his friend disappeared under a layer of dirt. He stole a cross from nearby and set it as Germany's marker, taking off his own jacket and putting it on the cross. It was only then North Italy could find his smile again and he spoke softly, "Goodnight Doitsu….."

And with that he walked away, taking steps into the world ravished by a horrible war, a painful war. He was alive but not alive; he wished to see if he could find others like him, suffering from emptiness and loss.

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><p>Veneziano; Yeah, I'm back with something depressing. Again. And it's not a one-shot, it's a full chapter story. Sorry me...<br>Feliciano: Doitsu...  
>Veneziano: The title, if I'm to believe Google Translation, means We Were.<p> 


	2. Water and War

It was a wonder that North Italy's legs had taken him as far as they had in the end, however far that was. All he knew was that he'd passed through countless seas of bodies, broken cities, devastated lands before he finally found his energy was gone and he fell to meet with the ground once more; he'd found no others, no men who had carried armies, no women who had carried heartbeats, no one like him. Fear of being alone though never came to him; North Italy couldn't bring himself to feel scared of the notion of being the only one left. Was it false hope that he wasn't the last? Was it his very being becoming too numb to feel anything? Was it the thought that that meant in the end, he wouldn't be alone where he'd be going? Who knew; he certainly didn't.

North Italy landed with his back to the dirt, feeling life and energy leave him; he was tired, he was weak, he wanted only to sleep. He knew instinctively at this point that sleep would let him go away from the endless gray sky, release him and allow him to go far away; he found his eyes closing at the thought, letting it come over him. Yes, he could just let go and fly away to where Germany was, couldn't he? There was no point in him staying; his life was for the people and the people were too few to sustain his being. No, he would be better off leaving too, like Germany, like the others, leaving and never coming back.

So he prepared for that. He took a breath and prepared to slip away, to disappear and no longer be North Italy. He felt himself disappear too, fading from existence…..

But something pulled him back: water, dripping onto his face. It was cold and daunting, shaking him from nothingness and causing him to open his eyes. It couldn't be raining, the gray clouds held no water for the earth. His eyes opened and was welcomed by more drops of water. And a familiar face, an old ally who looked like he had just gotten older; his once pristine white uniform was stained like North Italy's: dirty and coated with blood. His short black hair had become messy, his dark eyes had become sad and hollow; he held a flask in one hand, the other holding his badly bleeding left leg as if to try to keep it from bleeding him to death. Water dripped from the flask and North Italy knew: it was the last of the water in there and yet Japan, this proud nation, was giving it to him with a sad pleading look. North Italy couldn't help thinking if that was how he himself had looked as he pleaded the dead Germany to speak to him again. It was heartbreaking really.

"Nihon?" He said softly, causing the Asian nations, eyes to widen momentarily, as if he hadn't expected North Italy to react, before a tiny smile came over his face.

"You're still alive, I'm glad Italia-san," Japan said; his voice was weak, strained, and quite sad.

North Italy nodded and Japan recapped his flask as he sat up, wincing; his body still felt weak and numb. Japan frowned seeing it and grabbed North Italy's hand gently, "Careful, you don't look too good."

"I guessed as much," North Italy said smiling lightly; he tried to hide his pain, "I'm so happy….to see you again, Nihon. I thought I was…I was…."

"The only one?" Japan finished for him, "Me too. I found my way here from my lands, hoping to find someone else; I thought maybe China or South Korea might be okay but," his voice trailed off, leaving only the feeling of what he most likely found.

North Italy nodded then tried once more to lift the mood, "But if we're okay, there must be more, right?"

Japan looked at him, saw the attempt at carefree smiling that lay on the Neapolitan's face and yet could also easily read the things that he's seen; North Italy had seen Germany dead, had seen the dead that littered their world, had seen the consequences of the third greatest war ever fought. No, the most horrible war; Japan knew there was no way North Italy could still be so carefree. Even he had to be broken inside.

He nodded, "Yes. Actually…."

Once more he drifted off. In truth he didn't know how to go on involving what else he'd found. Or rather who.

North Italy blinked, "Actually? What is it, Nihon?"

"I found someone else," Japan muttered, looking away.

"Who?"

"….Come on, I'll show you." Japan started to walk away and North Italy followed curious; Japan continued, "I came further since I was trying to find something to help carry him. He's really badly hurt, he can't even move at the moment. Though I suppose it's to be expected."

"Nihon," North Italy said, frowning, noticing how as Japan walked he limped, his leg even worse than he thought, "Who did you-" he stopped cold.

There on the ground lay Russia, a fellow nation, the most frightening of them all. Or would have been if not for how he looked; the tall Slavic nation lay broken on the ground, his trademark coat stained to the point of being more red than beige, one arm laying limply at his side, the other gripping loosely at his stomach. Both of his legs looked badly torn up, with blood gracing the cloth that was most likely once his pants. His eyes were closed, his mouth was slightly open with staggering breathing being all that showed he was still alive, still kicking.

That made North Italy feel angry. Russia was at fault actually; this destruction was the result of a war started by him and China and America when they were at their most paranoid. The deaths of so many were because of their fighting, of them dragging other nations into the fighting; the destruction, the pain, the emptiness…..and most of all, Germany. Germany was gone. Germany was dead and Russia was still breathing.

North Italy clenched his hands, refusing to feel that hatred, that pain as he looked back to Japan; the Asian looked uncomfortable, uneasy, "He's still conscious, he just…can't move."

"Da…." Russia's childish voice seemed more so, sadder and weak in a way that was completely unlike him; North Italy turned hesitantly to look back at him to see Russia slowly open his eyes, the violet irises showing the same endless pain and emptiness as Japan's, the same as North Italy's. The same; it caused his heart to hurt, not because he could see his own pain reflected in someone usually so cruel and undying, but because he had felt such anger when there should be none. They were the same now, three lost nations, broken.

"We could try carrying him, I suppose," North Italy volunteered, turning his gaze to Japan.

Japan shook his head but didn't explain; there was no need. His leg said everything. North Italy frowned and looked out into the distance. Japan watched the Neapolitan nation carefully, reading his expression best he could before speaking, "I saw a wheelbarrow a while back; I saw it earlier but then I saw you and I…well…"

"Really?" North Italy said looking back to him, "Then let's go get it. I mean, I suppose we can't move Russia ourselves so we could use the wheelbarrow."

He didn't ask why Japan hadn't grabbed it before, he could tell why; Japan probably figured that something had happened to Germany, that was why North Italy had been laying and waiting to die. And if Germany had died, it was obvious who was to fault; Japan had thought North Italy might not want to help his beloved Doitsu's killer. But once more, they were now all the same; North Italy couldn't feel anger and hatred for the Slavic when he could see the sadness in Russia's eyes, hear the weakness in his voice. North Italy couldn't help his kinder nature and his kinder nature asked him to help.

Japan smiled a bit at North Italy's answer and nodded, leading the way back to retrieve the wheelbarrow. North Italy followed but not before looking back to Russia.

"We'll be back for you in a little bit, okay Russia?"

Russia simply nodded.

* * *

><p>Veneziano: Wow two chapters in one night.<br>Kiku: That's because you kept reading Tear jerker Fanfiction tropes on TVTropes and couldn't stop getting inspired.  
>Veneziano: True. Anyway, Now there is three. There will be more nations though...possibly. And Maybe North Italy will...I can't say.<p> 


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